


Wearing Your Mark

by syriala



Series: Steter Week 2018 [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mates, Misunderstandings, Pining, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 02:47:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15451674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syriala/pseuds/syriala
Summary: The triskelion was still obviously fresh, stark black against Stiles' pale skin, curving elegantly over his shoulder and one spiral edging towards his neck.It was the most effective way to mark himself as Derek's future emissary.





	Wearing Your Mark

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Steter Week Day 6, Bamf!Stiles. 
> 
> I was aiming for all eight days, but 7 and 8 are giving me trouble so this is the last story I have for Steter Week. I hope you enjoyed them!

Stiles had become frighteningly competent over the last few months and Peter was man enough to admit that Stiles could be scary.

He was pretty sure it was because of the eerie white that overshadowed his eyes when he casted his magic, and the seemingly menacing tattoos all over, but Stiles had become somewhat of a badass. It only served to attract Peter further.

He already was helplessly gone on the emissary-to-be, and seeing Stiles competently handling his wolfsbane and magic infused bat and smashing heads left and right, only made it worse. Adding in that away from the battlefield Stiles was still the same floundering, babbling knowledgeable nerd he always was, and Peter was honest to god helpless against him.

Too bad that Stiles was training to be Derek’s emissary. It was an unspoken fact that that was what Deaton was training him for and while Peter might have had some secret hope that if he could gain alpha status again Stiles would be his emissary eventually, that didn’t seem to be Stiles’ wish at all.

Peter had tried not to make any assumptions, Derek and Stiles were a bad fit in his eyes, but apparently, they thought differently. Everyone knew that Deaton was pushing Stiles towards Derek and since Stiles never protested against that, it was almost a done deal anyway.

But still, hope was a stubborn little thing, and Peter never managed to really push down that spark of ‘mine’ when it came to Stiles.

It was Stiles himself who effectively killed any lingering hope Peter still had. Stiles showed up late to one of the many mandatory pack meetings and Peter cursed every second of that. He only showed up because he knew no one wanted him there, and because it meant more time he could spend with Stiles, but without Stiles there it was only half as fun.

When Stiles finally showed up Peter very pointedly did not look over; not wanting to give the impression he had just been waiting for Stiles even though that was exactly what he had been doing.

Instead he very carefully listened to the explanation Stiles gave for being late. It wasn't much of one.

“Sorry I'm late,” was all he said, and Peter had to suppress a smile when Derek growled at him.

“Dude,” Scott suddenly piped up. “Did you get it?” he asked, jumping up from the couch and hurrying over to Stiles.

“I did,” Stiles hissed. “Now shut up.”

“Let me see,” Scott said and there was a bit of a scuffle apparently and then Stiles smacked Scott's hand away.

“I just want to make sure it's healing correctly,” Scott insisted, and Peter could almost hear Stiles’ eyeroll.

“It's not even an hour old, how much healing do you think it has done yet?” Stiles asked, and Peter finally looked over at that.

He quickly checked Stiles over, but he couldn't see any obvious injury even though now that he concentrated he noticed the faint smell of blood, mixed together with something else. Scott was reaching out for the collar of Stiles’ shirt and this time Stiles only sighed and obediently tilted his head a bit, obviously realizing that Scott wouldn't stop.

“Dude, it's a bit obvious, don't you think,” Scott whispered, and Stiles quickly glanced over to the pack.

“Not if you stop drawing attention to it,” Stiles snapped and moved out of Scott's reach.

It didn't have the intended effect though, because Scott was slow to let go of the collar and instead stretched the fabric enough to reveal the tattoo on Stiles shoulder.

The triskelion was still obviously fresh, stark black against Stiles' pale skin, curving elegantly over his shoulder and one spiral edging towards his neck.

Peter resisted the urge to raise his hand and briefly touch his own triskelion right above his heart. Not many people knew that he had it, Derek the only one in the pack, and Peter liked it that way. But that also meant that Stiles got the tattoo not with Peter in mind, as much as he would wish for that, but for Derek. Matching the one he had on his back, since everyone knew about that one. Derek was running around without shirts way too often.

It was the most effective way to mark himself as Derek's future emissary.

Peter was altogether unfamiliar with the painful feeling in his chest, but he figured this must be what rejection felt like.

Because of course, of course Stiles wouldn’t want to be his. Peter recognized that he was a great source of knowledge, and it’s only natural for Stiles to want to take advantage of that, so he could be a better emissary for his future alpha. It’s only logical, no matter how much it might hurt Peter.

But it also meant that no matter if Peter became alpha again or not, Stiles wouldn’t be his, would never stand at his side, as emissary and maybe even more.

Peter had only been waiting to stumble upon an alpha to take the power from and going by the knowing looks he got from Derek and Stiles whenever he left for an extended period of time, they knew exactly what he was up to as well.

They didn’t stop him, they never asked him about it, and it almost seemed to Peter like they thought it was inevitable that he would become alpha again. The lack of protest might have furthered his hope that he had a future with Stiles in his pack, but Peter recognized that he needed to put that hope to rest now.

Stiles had made his point, had decided on his future, and it wouldn’t be with Peter.

Peter needed to learn to live with that.

~*~*~

Peter had heard about a truly despicable alpha a few hours away, and this was exactly the opportunity he had been waiting for all along.

But instead of packing his bags and going out to hunt the monster down, he was lounging on his couch, contemplating if it was even worth getting the alpha status back, if he couldn’t have Stiles at his side.

His musings were interrupted when his phone suddenly chimed with the ringtone he set for the emergency pack channel. Peter was up in a second, snatching his phone up and reading over the message.

 _Flock of harpies_ was all it said, accompanied with GPS coordinates. It was deep in the preserve and Peter wondered how Stiles even had stumbled upon them, not that it really mattered. Peter was out of his apartment in mere seconds.

When he approached the coordinates Stiles’ had sent, he could already hear the fight, so he pocketed his phone and raced towards the clearing.

As soon as it came into sight Peter slowed down, because it wasn’t like Stiles even needed his help. Most of the harpies were already down, only two still fighting back, even though their wings seemed broken and they were mostly harmless on the ground.

Stiles was alone, magic crackling around him, his eyes the milky white Peter came to associate with power and his bat twirling in his hand. It was a matter of minutes before the last two harpies were down as well and that was when Peter stepped into the clearing.

He had been ready to charge in, should it look like Stiles needed help at any second, but of course Stiles was more than capable of handling himself.

“Did you just call for backup because you’re tired of cleaning up your own messes?” Peter asked, surveying the carnage around Stiles.

Peter couldn’t deny that it was more than attractive to him, seeing Stiles covered in blood and proof of his capability lying dead on the ground.

Stiles whirled around to him and Peter tried hard not to be hurt by the confused look he got. He had been good lately, showing up to pack meetings without being prompted, and he always fought with the pack when something was going down. Stiles’ surprise was totally unwarranted.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asked him, something reproachful in his voice and Peter frowned.

“You sent out an emergency alert,” Peter gave back, and Stiles shook his head at him.

“But you’re supposed to be in Oregon,” Stiles accusingly said, and Peter only frowned harder.

That was where the rumours of the rogue alpha were from, but Stiles couldn’t possibly know that.

“And what would I be doing there?” Peter asked, trying for nonchalance even though he tensed when Derek and the rest of the pack finally came to the clearing as well.

He avoided his eyes when Derek immediately went up to Stiles, obviously checking him over, and Peter took a few steps back. Seeing Stiles and Derek this familiar with each other still hurt, and Peter wasn’t sure it would ever stop.

Peter could hardly stand to see the triskelion on Stiles’ shoulder, so close to the spot Derek would have to bite to make him his emissary and seeing them so obviously concerned with each other was more than Peter could handle.

Maybe it was time to get that alpha power back, if just so he could safely stay away from the pack, no longer having to stay around so that he didn’t go omega on anyone. If he was alpha again, he could move away and start his own pack, get another emissary, one that didn’t mean so much to Peter.

It certainly seemed like the better option than watching Stiles and Derek being bound together.

“What are you still doing here, Peter?” Derek asked him now too and finally it clicked for Peter.

Of course they had noticed that he was not so quietly gone on Stiles. It only made sense that they wanted him to be an alpha again, so that they wouldn’t have to deal with him around anymore.

“I’m asking myself the same,” Peter shortly gave back. “Seeing as I’m not actually wanted around.”

He walked back into the preserve, without looking back or listening to Stiles calling him back. He had an alpha to kill after all.

~*~*~

Killing the alpha was easier than Peter had expected. He was already so far gone, there was no human intelligence left in him and so Peter easily overpowered him.

He alpha power coursing through him was a shock, but a good one, so different than the last time. It didn’t further Peter’s insanity, because he was quite stable these days and instead it settled into his bones like it belonged there.

The only surprising moment was when Peter noticed the one pack bond he had. He curiously poked at it, wondering who would ever feel connected enough to him to be immediately in his pack, but he shied away from it when it felt like Stiles.

He wondered what went wrong, that he couldn’t even escape Stiles as an alpha. Maybe this was the punishment he got for everything he had done to his family.

Peter drove back to his apartment, ready to pack everything up and finally move away from this cursed land, valiantly trying to shut down the one pack bond he could feel, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to completely terminate the connection.

He was in the process of packing up his books when Stiles suddenly stormed into his apartment. Peter had felt him coming, but he wasn’t ready to explain to Stiles why he had formed a pack bond with him, wasn’t ready to hear Stiles say how unwanted this connection was.

Stiles stormed into the living-room, mouth already open to say something, but he froze when he saw Peter bend over a box.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Stiles wanted to know, and Peter looked back down, packing up a few more books.

“Packing,” was all Peter said and he could smell the confusion on Stiles. “I’m sorry about the pack bond,” Peter said after a silence that went on way too long, given that it was Stiles who stood in his living-room, but it seemed to spur him into action again.

“I’m not,” Stiles decidedly said and that brought Peter up short.

He glanced up at Stiles, eyes drawn to the edge of the triskelion tattoo on his shoulder and his wolf _wanted_. It didn’t understand that this sign, their sign, was for another alpha.

“I don’t think Derek will be all to pleased by this,” Peter told him when Stiles just continued to stare at him, which prompted Stiles to roll his eyes.

“Alpha Hale,” he formally said, and Peter’s eyes flashed at that. “I’m here to apply for emissary position.”

Peter froze at that, his wolf howling in satisfaction in his mind, but Peter wasn’t quite ready to believe it yet. He got up, and walked over to Stiles, coming to stop just a few inches away from Stiles and gingerly pulled his collar down, exposing the triskelion.

“You’re wearing my nephew’s mark,” he rasped out and Stiles huffed, clearly amused by something.

“It’s also your mark,” he gave back, raising a hand to rest it over Peter’s heart. “You might not burst out of your shirt every other hour like Derek, but you do change in the loft after a fight,” he explained.

“So you’re saying you’re mine,” Peter said and he couldn’t quite keep the growl out of his voice.

“Only if you don’t have an emissary yet,” Stiles cheekily gave back.

“Stiles, be sure about this,” Peter got out, fangs already growing in his mouth in anticipation of claiming Stiles as his.

“I am,” Stiles earnestly said. “I’ve only always been training to be your emissary,” he went on and bared his neck for Peter.

Peter could feel his eyes flash again, right before he leaned in and sank his fangs into the place where neck met shoulder, where the triskelion had been taunting him for weeks now. Stiles gasped against him, and he brought his hands up, but not to push Peter away, but to pull him closer, fingers digging into his shoulders, Stiles was holding on so hard.

Peter’s fangs retreated, leaving only his blunt human teeth behind and he licked over the mark on Stiles’ neck. It was sluggishly bleeding but already healing, tapping into Peter’s healing power, indicating that the bond was accepted.

Stiles was his emissary now and nothing but death could destroy that bond.

“Now take me to bed,” Stiles demanded, and Peter almost suffocated in the delicious smell of Stiles’ arousal.

“Bossy,” Peter chuckled and leaned in to lick over Stiles’ neck again.

“Better get used to that, you’re not getting rid of me that easily now,” Stiles gave back and pushed Peter away.

“Plus, there’s another bite you have yet to give me,” he said and bared the other side of his neck to Peter, his left side.

The side exclusively used for mating bites.

“Stiles,” Peter started but couldn’t even finish the sentence which how much he _wanted_. He wasn’t even sure what he tried to say.

“I want everything, Peter,” Stiles told him, voice and heartbeat steady and eyes locked on Peter.

“And I’m going to give you exactly that,” Peter said before he leaned in to kiss the living hell out of Stiles as he dragged him towards the bedroom.

Stiles laughed against his lips, bright and happy, and Peter vowed to make him laugh like that for the rest of their lives.


End file.
